Hunting hunters 2: Off to London
by ChickyAwesome
Summary: If you haven't read my first story I'd highly recommend that you do, I'm not sure how much you'll understand if you don't, but I don't run your life. With Sherlock and John getting into hunting, they may be in over their heads with this new case. It's up to Sam and Dean to get them out, or all of their heads are on the chopping block.
1. This Again?

**The sequel to my other story Hunting Hunters I recommend reading that first, I'm not really sure how much this will reference that, but it definitely will. The first chapter is short once again, but I hope it's good. Please enjoy.**

* * *

John had just returned with a cup of tea and now sat in his chair. He didn't even bother to move when the buzzer rang, he didn't expect Sherlock to either. with get it, the boys were too lost in though to do anything. Although the knock on the door and the sound of calling to them was enough to get John to move. Sherlock remained perfectly still. He groaned as he made his way to the door. As soon as it opened, John's jaw dropped and his cup nearly followed suit.

***time skip to a few days before***

Blood was splattered across the wall, limbs were scattered, there were signs of torture. It was a gruesome scene. And Sherlock was standing in the middle of it.

* * *

the Impala pulled back into the motel parking lot and stopped in a spot. Sam and Dean stepped out and back into their room, ready for some sleep after a salt n burn. They were exhausted, both covered in dirt from a long night of grave mutation.

"I'm going to go take a shower," Sam sighed, shrugging his jacket off before kicking his shoes away.

"Yeah, I'm getting in after you're done," Dean said diving down on one of the beds, not even bothering to take his shoes off.

A few minutes later the bathroom was filled with steam and Dean was asleep. Then there was a knock on the door. Dean jolted up just as two armed men bolted into the room. They both had their sights on Dean the instant he reached for his own gun. The shower was still running.

"What the hell," Dean muttered under his breath, "Who the hell are you?"

"Our boss would like to meet with you," One of the men said as he walked over and took Dean's arm. He was frisked for weapons then dragged out of the room as the other man just strolled into the bathroom.

Next thing they knew they were flying down the highway, with ( a mostly naked ) Sam and ( a fully dressed ) Dean in the back seat. Dean couldn't help but crack a smile at his brother.

Sam glared back, "Don't you dare-"

"Cold there, Sammy?" Dean started laughing at his brother.

Sam sat there, making his bitch face, waiting for his brother to calm down. "Can you focus? This is kinda important." Sam looked away from Dean and at the to man up front, "Who are you? Where we going?"

The man in the passenger seat looked back at him, "We're taking you to meet our boss." He stated matter-of-factly.

"And who would that be?" Sam raised his brows skeptically.

The man to turn back around. Sam shook his head and sighed in frustration. Soon they pulled into a secluded airport.

"Great," Dean grumbled as a large jet came into view. There was nobody around, like it was privately owned or something. The car stopped close to the jet. The man stepped out and each went to one side of the car, escorting Sam and Dean into the plane. The seats were in groups of four with a table in the middle of each group, a man wearing a suit sat at one of the groups waiting for them. The men placed Sam and Dean across from him then stood next to the seats, watching carefully.

"Hello, Dean and Sam Winchester, I'm Mycroft Holmes."


	2. Hopping the Pond

**I really hope I'll be able to have more Mycroft scenes later, but only if I can get them to fit in nicely. Hopefully I'll have a lot more time to write tonight. This chapter seemed so much longer when I was writing it then the first, but anyway. Please enjoy!**

* * *

"Mycroft?" Dean repeated in shock from the name.

Sam quickly interrupted Dean before he could comment further, "Holmes as in Sherlock's...?"

"Elder brother," Mycroft answered.

"Cheekbones has a brother?" Dean looked at him questioningly.

Mycroft smirked, "Yes, very powerful brother, who needs some questions answered. And since I know who you are, I highly recommend answering them."

"Alright, _Minecraft,"_ Dean said in his best smart ass tone, "What do you want to know?"

The Holmes looked at him, feeling very annoyed, but continued, "What happened after my brother met you?"

Mycroft watched the Winchesters carefully as they thought of an answer. Sam was obviously cold and uncomfortable in his small towel, but he answered first, "He proved that we were innocent." Technically not a lie.

"Obviously not innocent of everything, otherwise you wouldn't be hiding," Mycroft looked that over. Dean was covered in dirt and still smelled like fire, Sam was shivering, "I see that you two have been up to some of your old tricks. I want to know why my brother is acting strange, strange even for Sherlock."

Sam and Dean gave each other a look, "Strange how?" Sam asked.

"He's been sneaking around more, avoiding me more than usual. And he's been solving more cases, but catching less murders." Mycroft watched the Winchesters reaction as he spoke. The brothers looked at each other again. Neither seemed too surprised by the news, rather frustrated, actually. Were they expecting something like this?

"What is it?" Mycroft demanded.

"Sherlock might be in over his head," Sam explained as calmly as he could.

"Has his eyes ummm... randomly turned black or anything?" Dean asked carefully.

Mycroft stared at Dean for a second, "Turned black how?"

"Like completely black, the whole thing," Dean said gesturing towards his own eyes.

"No," Mycroft answered truthfully, "why do you ask?"

Dean had an 'oh shit' look on his face as he struggled to answer.

Sam quickly went to answer, "Well you see, when Sherlock was with us we ran into some trouble, we got out of it, but Sherlock might be in trouble again."

A cold, angry expression washed over Mycroft's calm features.

"We can get him out of it." He reassured.

"Why should I trust you?" Mycroft examined them again and again, looking for any signs of betrayal.

"You don't really have much of an option, umbrella boy," Dean spat out, "Whatever trouble Sherlock's in, we're the only ones who can get him out of it."

"Why are you the only ones who can assist him?" Mycroft kept his calm demeanor, even though his was extremely annoyed by Dean's attitude.

Sam sensed Mycroft's frustration and jumped in before Dean could make things any worse, "We're specialists in this sorry of thing, ."

"Specialists at what?"

Dean looked him straight in the eye, "Killing things."

Mycroft looked at his men, "Will you please get Sam some clothes, he seems rather chilly in his towel. He and his brother have a long flight ahead of them."


	3. One Long Flight

Dean's fingernails dug into the seat as the jet soared through the air, Sam sat next to him, taking the window seat. The younger brother had been given clothes by one of Mycroft's men and had changed in the oddly large bathroom on the jet. Mycroft tried not to smile at the fear creeping onto Dean's face, but it was satisfying seeing the smart mouth so nervous.

"If you don't mind, tell me exactly what happened when you met my brother," Mycroft asked, straightening in his seat, "Exactly what happened."

"Well, umm," Sam shifted in his seat, "He found us, stalked us, then broke into our motel room," Dean smirked at his brother's attitude.

Mycroft nodded, "Yes, that does sound like Sherlock, but why didn't he arrest you?"

"He went with us to do some work, saw what we really do and he let us go," Sam explained, trying to make it sound like it was nothing. Truth be told he was worried Sherlock would do something like this. He had been way too intrigued by hunting for something to not happen.

"And what do you really do? I assume it involves killing things," Mycroft knew there was more to it than that.

"Listen," Dean spoke up, "we get rid of things that kill people. Make that world a better, safer place, and all of that jazz."

There was no way Sherlock, let alone John, would be alright with that. Mycroft knew his brother well enough to know, from what he was told about the situation, Sherlock would never have just let them walk free. A house had burnt to the ground while they were in town, he also assumed it somehow involved his brother. But he also knew they were trying to be as vague as possible. 'Interrogation' was always an option, although a little extreme for this situation. He'd have to use a different method to extract the information. "What is your relationship with my brother?"

"Well," Sam paused for a moment to think, "we're at least acquaintances." Dean scuffed and Sam rolled his eyes.

Mycroft took that as his cue to stand up and head towards the cabin. He looked back at the brothers and said, "Now, you two behave. We should arrive in London in several hours," before disappearing behind the door.

Sam quickly smacked Dean on the arm.

"What the hell?" Dean rubbed the spot where he'd been hit. Sam shot him a glare. "What? Embarrassed after your little heart to heart with Cheekbones?" Dean smirked and started using a baby voice, "Does Sammy have a crush on Sherlock?"

Sam punched his brother's arm again. Before he could tell him to shut his pie tap, the plane hit a bit of turbulence. A look of sheer terror washed over Dean's face, as his nails dug into the fabric of the seat. He tried to brace himself by shoving his foot into the table and his back into the seat, to keep as still as possible. Sam just sat there laughing. As soon as Dean calmed down he glared at his brother and sat up in his seat. Sam smirked back.

"Can we focus," Dean tried to look and sound and serious as possible, "You think Sherlock's been hurting?"

Sam sighed and nodded, "Seems so."

Dean let out an annoyed huff as he slumped back in his seat and ran his fingers through his hair. He was already on edge from being on this flying death trap and this Sherlock thing wasn't helping, "Dammit."

"I knew this was going to happen. We should have talked him out of it." Sam felt somewhat angry about this.

"I know, man. I tried, but never got to him." Every time the jet jerked, Dean bit his lip, hard, and tensed up. This was going to be a long flight.

Sam tried to think of a way to help Sherlock. They got Sherlock, and probably John, into this and they had to pull them out. Before they lost more friends.

* * *

**At this point Mycroft thinks that when Sam and Dean say 'things' they're just distancing themselves from the people they kill in order to cope. I wasn't sure how to fit that in nicely. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. **


	4. What We're Up Against

**We finally get to see some of what John and Sherlock are up to in this chapter. I hope I didn't write the end too confusing I tried to get a certain affect but I could have just made it unreadable. I hope you enjoy! **

* * *

John sighed. There were crime scene photos plastered all over the wall, which wasn't unusual, but this was different. This wasn't their usual type of 'case'. And frankly it made him nervous. From what he learned about all of these different creatures, John figured the way the spirit tried to kill them back in Montana, by suffocating them, was merciful. Thinking about the spirit made him think about the Winchesters. He wanted to be angry at them for introducing him and Sherlock to all of this, but he knew it's not all their fault. The only comfort he had was when he and Sherlock walk down the street and the detective would start deducing who in the crowd were hunters. Some days he would point them out left and right. But John was still a lot more careful walking around after dark now. At least it gave Sherlock a new way to deal with his boredom. More research to do, more experiments to try, more weapons that must be collected. Sherlock was fascinated by every aspect of this. Which scared John more than anything.

* * *

"OH, FUCK!"

Sam woke up to Dean swearing again. Albeit it's better than other times he's woken up to Dean yelling that. He looked over a look over intense fear and relief on his brother's face. Sam could feel that they were landing. As the jet came to a stop Mycroft and the two men from earlier came out from the cabin. Mycroft say across from them again, while the men stood. Dean just tried not to piss himself.

"What do you plan on doing once you meet with my brother?" Mycroft asked, eyeing Dean, feeling as if the man might get sick.

"We have to talk to him," Sam said in a very serious tone.

"What will you do when that doesn't work," Mycroft knew that won't work.

Sam leaned in, "We'll do everything we can to get him out of this."

"And if you can't," Mycroft's voice sounded dark.

Sam paused for a moment, because he had no idea what they'd do, " , we will find a way to keep him safe."

"But we're gonna need a few things," Dean joined in, Mycroft raised an eyebrow so he continued, "First off we'll need our guns back."

"Done."

"Our knives."

"Done."

"And salt."

"Salt?" Mycroft seemed skeptical. He knew that they were superstitious, but salt.

Dean shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly, "Trust me, we need it."

"Alright, done," Mycroft sat up taller.

Sam's face softened, as he spoke in a reassuring voice, "Mycroft, Sherlock will be okay."

"Yeah, man. You have some faith in your little brother," Dean added and smiled.

Mycroft returned with a strange look. He didn't want to show that they had puzzled him, partly from the warm sentiment they offered and because they had referred to him by his first name and 'man'.

"Alright, now," Dean clapped his hands on his knees and sat up straighter, feeling much better now that the plane was stationary, "where do we start?"

With a nod from their boss, Mycroft's men handed Sam and Dean back all of their belongings, including their wallets and cellphones, "We have given you enough money to get by, programed my number into your mobiles, along with providing you with many different false identifications from various organizations. If you require anything else you may call me."

"Yes, sir," Dean gave a sarcastic salute while Sam just nodded.

"We have a car that will bring you to my brother's flat," Mycroft added as the Winchesters rose from their seats. "And also, if anything happens to my brother, it will be on your heads."

Well even more motivation to keep Sherlock safe, Sam thought.

"Now," Mycroft stood up, "time to show you two to 221b Baker street."

*time skip*

Sam watched the street lights flicker on and become blurs as the city came to life in the darkness. The sun dropped below the skyline, Mycroft's driver guided the brothers through London. The lights, the people, the scenery all flew by them. Dean turned to his brother.

"Do you think they're on a case now?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know, man, but probably yeah."

* * *

"I've got it!" Was the first thing John heard as he walked into the flat. He scrunched his eyebrows at his friend, who replied, "The case, John."

* * *

Dean rubbed his eyes. The lack of sleep was finally getting to him. "If they are, it's gonna make things harder."

Sam nodded, "Hopefully they know what they're dealing with."

* * *

"You've got what?" John hung his coat up.

"I know what we're dealing with."

* * *

"But even if they do figure it out," Sam looked down, "there's no way to prove that they'll be able to handle it."

* * *

"Sherlock, don't you think this is a little out of our league?"

Don't be silly, John-"

* * *

"They'll be screwed if it's-"

* * *

"We can handle a few-"

* * *

"**Demons**"


	5. Unwelcome Surprise

John had to go make himself some tea. Demons. Of all things they could be dealing with, it had to be demons. Sherlock stayed in the other room and started writing notes for John. They had already managed to stockpile salt, but that wasn't all they'd need to fight demons. They've been on this case for days. As soon as they saw who the victims were they knew the case had supernatural origins. Many of their cases that did look like it might involve the paranormal were quickly stolen by hunters. Part of Sherlock's job was cleaning up after them. 'Proving' something was an accident, stopping hunters from getting put in jail, helping them get out of jail, teaching them more efficient ways to hide bodies. He became well known in the hunting community, while Sherlock found all of these tasks quite annoying. John had just returned with a cup of tea and now sat in his chair. He didn't even bother to move when the buzzer rang, he didn't expect Sherlock to either. will get it, the boys were too lost in thought to do anything. Although the knock on the door and the sound of calling to them was enough to get John to move. Sherlock remained perfectly still. He groaned as he made his way to the door. As soon as it opened, John's jaw dropped and his cup nearly followed suit.

Sam smiled at the landlady, "Thanks for letting us in," Then followed Dean past a stunned John and into the flat.

_Of course they were here._ John shut the door and turned to face the men, who were now checking out the flat, "How did you-?"

"Mycroft," Sam quickly answered.

"Ah," John nodded. And of course it was Mycroft.

When his brother's name escaped Sam's lips, Sherlock sprung up, "Mycroft did what?"

" Probably just save your ass," Dean looked him dead in the eye, "Looks like you've started hunting." He gestured at a few packages of salt in the corner of the room.

"It's for an experiment," Sherlock replied quickly, getting skeptical looks in return.

Sam glanced over at the pictures on the wall. Dean followed his brother's gaze when Sherlock stepped in front of them, "That's for one of my cases. Why are you here?"

"Mycroft is worried about you," Sam paused, so Sherlock could let out an annoyed huff and roll his eyes, before continuing, "and so are we. He brought us here to see what you're doing."

"Yeah man, he freakin' yanked us from our room and dragged us here." Dean grumbled.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Is that why you're filthy?" He scanned Dean up and down.

His hair was a mess, purple bags were under his eyes, and the adrenaline had worn off, leaving his muscles feeling like bags for pudding. Dean rubbed his eyes as he took in a deep breath and moved his fingers up to his hair, he could feel the dirt still trapped in it. Most of it had fallen out by now, but some still clung to his skin and in the folds of his clothes. He looked over at Sam, who had actually gotten pretty clean from his short shower. It was obvious that the older brother needed some rest.

John was the first to say something, "Wait a minute, let's continue this in the morning. It's getting too late for all of this," He turned to Sam and Dean, "Are you staying somewhere near here?"

Sam shook his head, "We haven't had a chance to find a place yet."

They turned as the door creaked open and popped head in, "If you would like, there's another flat downstairs that has a shower and a bed you could use, dearies."

"That would be wonderful, miss," Dean replied with a sweet, slightly flirty smile.

blushed and giggled as she lead him down the stairs, leaving Sam alone with the Brits. Sherlock immediately went back to his spot, so it was really just Sam and John. They shared an awkward look for a brief moment.

"Do you want to take a nap or something? You did have a long flight," John asked, remembering his flight to the states.

"No, I'm doing fine," Sam could run for awhile longer without much sleep.

"Ah," John glanced at Sherlock, who was still ignoring them, then looked back Au Sam, "would you like some tea?"

Sam nodded, "That would be great, thanks." He watched John walk out of the room before looking over at Sherlock. The skinny man sat on the floor with at least a dozen photos spread around him. Sam slid down on the floor a couple feet away from Sherlock, "Ummm, what are you looking at?"

"Crime scene photos," Sherlock answered without even glancing away from the images in front of him. Even without seeing, Sherlock could tell the Winchester was examining the pictures, "They're from one of my 'normal' cases," He used air quotes around 'normal'. Most of Sherlock's were strange, but at least they involved humans.

Sam nodded as he scanned over the photos. Something told him that Sherlock was lying, although he wasn't certain. John came back work the tea and handed a cup to Sam, who mumbled a thank you as he took a sip. There was definitely something they weren't telling him.

* * *

**This is such an awkward place to stop, but if I kept going this chapter would have ended up super long. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter, more to come soon.**


	6. Night at the Flat

Dean closed his eyes and let the hot water run down his face then circle the drain. It felt so good to finally get out of the dried mud off of his skin. He then shut off the water and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. After realizing that he couldn't put his other clothes back on, Dean pick them up and walked out of the bathroom, wearing a towel the sweet old lady borrowed him, around his waist. He grabbed his shoes, which held everything else he had with him and made his way over to 's door, who answered quickly.

"Oh!" exclaimed as she looked over Dean's toned chest and stomach.

The younger man blushed and coughed awkwardly, trying to get her attention, "Ummm... I was wondering if you wouldn't mind washing these for me," Dean gestured to the clothes under his arm.

smiled gently, "Of course, dear" She giggled at Dean's awkwardness, Dean muttered a 'thank you' then booked it up the stairs. watched until he entered Sherlock's flat before returning to her own. The other men stared at Dean for a moment. John's look changed from shock to confusion as Sam started laughing, and Sherlock turned back to his work. Dean shot a glare at his brother.

"What? Not so funny when it's you?" The smartass attitude dripping from Sam's voice.

Dean sat in the couch, then reached out with his foot to kick at the back the his brother's head, who smacked it away. John, who was also on the couch, scooted farther away from the mostly naked Winchester.

"Would you like some clothes?" He asked, not looking at Dean.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, that would be cool, if it doesn't weird you out."

"Couldn't be much weirder than this," John sighed as he pushed himself off of the couch. A few minutes later he came back with a pair of black pants and a white dress shirt. Sherlock glanced over, his eyes grow wide and he opened his mouth to object, but was cut off by John before he could start, "Sherlock, my trousers would be too short for him and we can't have a naked man on our couch."

Sherlock groaned, "I'll burn them later,"

John handed Dean the clothes and showed him where the bathroom was. Dean reemerged in Sherlock's shirt and pants, "Dude, you're way too skinny."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Whatever, _dude"_

"If you don't mind me asking," John watched as Dean went and sat down next to him, "Why are you here? I know Mycroft sent you, but what for?"

"Well, he wants to know why you're sneaking around more, but we all know why, so Sam and I figured we oughta do something about it," Dean said, leaning forward so his elbows rested in his knees.

"Oh, of course he does," Sherlock grumbled under his breathe.

John tilted his head, "Do something like what?"

"Get you out of hunting," Sam looked over at John, "Or at least prepare you for what's in store."

"Is that a threat?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow as John shifted in his seat.

"No, not at all," Sam said, "But we want you to be ready."

"Ready? For what?" John asked.

"Hunting's not really an easy job." Dean added, "It's dangerous, people die."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something." Sherlock said, finally tuning back into the conversation, "We found these books."

Sam and Dean groaned loudly.

"So you are aware of them."

"Are they real?" John looked astonished.

"How did you even find them?" Sam ran his fingers through his hair.

Sherlock smirked, "You're avoiding the question."

"Shut up, pude head," Dean shot back. Sherlock's brows scrunched for a moment before he rolled his eyes.

"So, they're true, the books it mean," John said as more of a confirming statement to himself than anything.

"Yeah, well, most of it at least," Sam nodded, "How much have you read?"

"Not a lot, just a few we found online," John didn't want it to seem like they had invaded the boy's privacy. Sherlock on the other hand...

"It proved my deductions about you were correct."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam shook his head, and said in the most sarcastic tone he could muster, "Thanks, man, that's good to know."

John wanted to give them his condolences about their parents, but knew that those were old wounds that didn't need to be reopened. Besides the Winchesters wouldn't want his pity anyway. He did the next best thing he could think of, "It's gotten late, you two might as well spend the night here."

"What?" Three shocked voices rang out in unison.

"John!" Sherlock protested.

"We owe them, your brother is the one who dragged them here." John countered.

Dean looked over at Sam, who shrugged, then said, "Sure, we'll stay."

Sherlock stood up, "What?"

"Well, we figure it's the best way to keep an eye on you," Sam answered.

"I'm not a child," Sherlock spat back.

"Sherlock, they're staying the night," John said as of scolding a child.

Sherlock plopped back down on the floor, "They're not going in my room."

Dean smirked, "Don't worry, we won't touch your porn stache."

"We'll just be out on the couch," Sam ignored his brother's comments.

John sighed and took this as a deal, suddenly feeling exhausted, "I'm going to bed."

Sherlock watched as John disappeared out of the room from the corner of his eye. _Great!_ Now thanks to those two and _Mycroft,_ not only does he have to be more careful with his investigations, but now thanks to John trying to be _nice_ he can't even work. Not without the Winchesters realizing what he's doing and taking over. He couldn't stand that. So, Sherlock sat there and pretended to think. It was around one a.m. when Dean finally passed out, snoring loudly. Sherlock glanced over to see Sam staring at him, with a dazed look in his eyes. It was as good of a time as any.

"Tell me about it."

Sam jumped at this, snapping to attention, "Huh?"

Sherlock was now sitting on his seat, staring at John's chair, trying not to look as Sam, "Tell me about your addiction."

"Why do you want to know?" Sam tilted his head. When he looked over, he noticed Sherlock's expression seemed colder than usual. There was a moment of silence as tension built.

"Just tell me," Sherlock snapped, finally looking over at Sam.

The Winchester could see the seriousness on the detective's face and nodded. There was so much that he could say, but what did Sherlock want to hear? What did he need to hear? "I started because it made me stronger. I had these psychic abilities and it made them so much stronger. I could do all of these amazing things. I could save so many people. I was able to kill demons with just my mind... But Dean was right, I was being used. And I didn't see it." Sam was now looking down at the floor.

Sherlock gave him a moment before asking, "What did you take?"

"Demon blood. I was drinking demon blood." He answered running a hand through his hair.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, "Demon blood?"

Sam let out a small, awkward laugh, "Yeah," He paused for a moment, "what about you?"

Sherlock stared off into the distance, his face making an unreadable expression. Sam knew he wouldn't get anything out of Sherlock, so he let the subject drop. Within a half an hour Sam had nodded off and Sherlock got to work.

* * *

**So basically, Sherlock and John have gotten part way through season 3 with the books. I hope the drug discussion cane out nice, I'm posting and editing late again, so if something went won't I might not have noticed. I hope you enjoyed. **


	7. Dealing with the Real Problem

The sun rose bright and early the next morning. Dean blinked awake and quickly scanned the room. He smacked Sam, waking him as well. The first thing Sam noticed is that Sherlock wasn't in the room, then that the flat was way too quiet. Him and Dean quickly got up and searched. John and Sherlock were gone.

"Is this really a good idea?" John walked with Sherlock as he glanced around at all of the police.

"They would only show us down. Besides do you think Lestrade would be alright with me bringing more people?" Sherlock said as he ducked under the police tape.

John followed, "They're going to be pissed."

They entered the home and walked up the DI, who nodded to them. "It's just like the other one's." He informed with a sickened look on his face. Understandably.

Sherlock walked passed him and info the next room, where the body was. The scene was like the other ones. There was blood splattered across the floor, the hunter's body laid mangled in the middle of the room. Yes a hunter, just like the other victims. Sherlock could see where there was a secret room behind a panel on the wall. There was a symbol on the floor with a large scratch through it and a line of sulfur in front of a broken window. These demons wanted something, something that those hunters couldn't provide them. John was in now, examining the body. The man had died from a slice to the jugular. Sherlock saw a small spot of blood too far away to be from the body the be far any of the wounds. Upon further inspection Sherlock found a small bowl, coated in blood, under the couch. Sherlock and John looked over when they heard voices coming from the hallway.

Lestrade: "Agent Rogers and Barnes?"

Man 1: "Yes, sir"

Lestrade: "If you're from the FBI, why are you dressed like that?"

Man 2: "We were undercover, trying to gather information."

Lestrade: "Let me call your supervisor."

There was the sound of a phone being dialed and they could hear Lestrade talking for a couple minutes before hanging up. A short mumbled discussion followed, then there were foot steps leading into the living room.

Lestrade let out an awkward cough and gestured to the two men behind him, "This is agents Barnes and Rogers from the FBI. They think the killer in one of theirs from the states and are joining in the investigation." Dean smiled and gave a little wave as Sam just looked looked annoyed. Lestrade looked Sherlock straight in the eye, "Be nice."

Sherlock was glaring daggers while John just stared at them trying to figure out how they found them.

"Excuse me, and , could we speak to you outside for a moment?" Sam used his most polite voice.

"I was about to suggest the same," Sherlock led them out the back door and into an alleyway, leaving Lestrade alone and confused.

Once they were out in the shadow covered alley, Sherlock started in on them, "You're in the way of my investigation."

"Oh, _we're_ in the way of your investigation," Sam's tone was the complete opposite of the one he used around Lestrade.

Sherlock glared up at him, "Why are you even here?"

"Because we're trying to help!" Sam stepped forward so that they were toe to toe.

"Sherlock," John tried to get hots friend's attention.

Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, getting his brother to move back a little, "Let's calm down now." He looked over at Sherlock, "I know you don't want our help, but you've got it anyway, so deal with it."

"You have no idea what you're up against," Sam said.

Sherlock went to speak again, but John cut him off before he could start, "Actually, we do."

Dean scrunched his brows, "What?"

"I deduced that demons were responsible after the first victim. You're behind," Sherlock stated confidently, "I know what I'm doing."

_Bang_

They turned in the direction the noise came from. There were two people standing at the end of the alley. They were smirking and their eyes flickered black for a second. Sam and Dean stepped so that they were between Sherlock and John, and the demons. Both of the demons started charging then, one of them pulling a knife out of his pocket. The Winchesters drew their knives out, an angel blade and the demon knife. Suddenly they were hit from behind. Sam was thrown into a wall, Dean was tackled to the ground, and John was pinned against a wall, as three more demons entered from the other side of the alley. Since Dean was right in front of him, Sherlock went to help him first. Sherlock grabbed onto the demon's shoulders and started to pull the monster off Dean. He then felt the blade slide into his stomach.


	8. The Cavalry Has Arrived

**I'm sorry it's another short chapter, but I don't have much time to type right now. Hopefully I'll have another chapter up within the next few days. Please enjoy! **

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Dean threw the demon off of him and slammed the demon knife into it's chest, then looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock's mind raced as he tried to figure out the best way to survive. His odds are dwindling by the second. His and Dean's eyes met for a brief moment before Sherlock directed his gaze towards John, trying to get the hunter to look over as well. Dean got the message and rushed over to help John. Sherlock used a wall to get himself into a sitting position. Sam swung the angel blade wildly at the three demons surrounding him as he tried to make his way over to Sherlock. John froze when he saw his best friend get stabbed. He struggled even harder against the demon, but no matter how hard he punched, he couldn't make it let go. The last thing Sherlock saw was Dean pulling the demon off of John and him running towards him, before everything faded to black.

"Sherlock!"

Sam shoved the blade into one of the demon's chest and watched it spark out, before being pinned to the ground by the other two demons. Dean and the demon that attacked John danced around each other's knives. The demon lunged forward, knife aimed right for Dean's throat, when something appeared between them. Something in a trench coat. Cas caught the demon's arm with one hand and placed the other on it's face. Light streamed out of the demon's eyes and mouth, then flopped to the ground.

"Nice timing, buddy," A small smile graced Dean's features, Cas nodded back. The smile quickly dropped and he turned to face his brother, "Sam!"

Dean and Cas rushed to Sam's aid. Cas placed his hands on the back of the demon's heads, they dropped in seconds.

Dean reached down to help pull Sam up to his feet, "We've got ya."

"Thanks," Sam said, now standing.

John swore loudly. The blood poured out of Sherlock's wound. His breathing was weak and shallow, skin paler than usual, he wasn't even talking. John was applying pressure and using his jacket in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Sherlock was fading. John could hear footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Sam, Dean and that angel from before, Castiel, running over.

Cas got down next to John, "I can help him." He then put two fingers on Sherlock's forehead.

John stared at him, confused. Then he felt Sherlock's breathing regulate, there wasn't blood running through his fingers. He moved the coat to see the hole that was once in his best friend's chest was gone. John heard a small noise from Sherlock and looked to see the color to his face. He was going to be alright.

"John?" Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and his voice sounded a little weak, otherwise he seemed fine. This didn't make any sense. Sherlock could see the blood on him, but he could see or feel a wound. He was thinking too clearly to be in shock and he was in the same spot, so not in a hospital. As he looked around he could see the Winchesters standing by him, but now Castiel was there. He looked back at John, "Demons?"

"They were... taken care of," John said abs without being asked added, "Castiel came and helped you."

Sherlock gave Cas a puzzled look, to which Cas replied, "I am an angel, I do have the power to heal."

Dean crossed his arms, "Now, what about not needing our help?"


	9. So What's the Plan?

**I was horribly mistaken about how long it would take me to update, computer problems and such. Anyway, reviews are welcome and it's may be awhile till I can update now. Please enjoy! **

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Dean crossed his arms, "Now, what about not needing our help?"

Sherlock ignored him and went to stand.

"So, Cas, what are you doing here man?" Sam asked.

"Another angel mentioned that there were many demons gathered in this area, I was investigating when I saw you," Cas explained.

Sherlock looked around, "We need to get rid of the bodies."

"I will dispose of them," Cas offered.

Dean nodded, "Meet us back at Sherlock's place when you're done."

In an instant Cas and the bodies were gone.

"Let's head back to your flat to figure out our next move," Sam said, as him and Dean started walking back towards the street.

Sherlock felt like protesting, but knew at the moment he had no right. So he started following John out of the alley, taking one last glance back.

***time skip***

It was still late morning by the time they made it to the flat. had Dean's clothes neatly folded in front of Sherlock's door. Dean took then inside and went in the bathroom to change. Sherlock sat in his chair, still want his blood stained shirt. John had wiped his hands off on his jacket before getting into the cab, wanting his best friend's blood off his skin as soon as possible. Besides, no cab would have picked him up of he looked too much like a murdered suspect, they looked bad enough as is. Dean came out of the as Cas reappeared back in the room.

"We need to come up with a game plan," Sam started, "Cas, tout said that there's been a lot of demon activity around here lately."

Cas nodded, "Yes, but they haven't acted until recently."

"And all of the victims have been hunters," Sherlock added.

"So it's safe to assume that they're going after all the hunters then," Dean leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

"But why now?" Sam asked aloud.

"New leadership possibly," Sherlock suggested, running scenarios through his head.

Cas spoke up from his corner, "As far as we know Crowley is still king."

John raised an eyebrow, "Crowley?"

"He's the king of hell," Sam answered.

He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but decided to drop it for now. One thing at a time

"But this isn't Crowley's m.o." Sam went on, "he can make deals fine without taking over London."

Sherlock had his fingers pressed together, lightly touching his lips, "Somebody is trying to make a move against the king of hell." All eyes were on Sherlock, waiting for him to elaborate, "They wouldn't all come out for a reckless fight, and they only attacked after you arrived. The demons had plenty of opportunities to attack us before, which means there's something you can do that others can't. Every hunter in London knows about this, angels seem to know, so that leaves other demons. If it was Crowley, he's the king of hell, what does he care if every demon knew what he was doing, no this must be someone much less powerful. A smaller group wants to make a stand, but can't fight the king of their own."

Sam, Dean and Cas considering the idea.

"It would be a huge middle finger to Crowley," Dean said.

"But there's no way he doesn't know about this," Sam said, "He's the master of torture and a pretty decent business man, he definitely knows about this."

Cas sighed, "Perhaps not, the angels only know because we can sense them. It's possible that, if the demons hid well enough, Crowley and his men haven't gotten word of it."

Sherlock hummed at this, deep in thought.

"Now that we think we know what they're up to," John said, "What do we do about it?"

"Well now we figure out who the leader is and cut the head off the snake," Sam shrugged.

John tilted his head, "And how do we do that?"

Dean smirked, "We catch ourselves a demon."


	10. This Was a Terrible Plan

John sprinted through the alleyways as fast as he could go, two demons close behind. Why did he have to be the bait? Well, it had to be him. The demons weren't going to go after Sam or Dean and there's no way in hell they'd go after Castiel. That left John or Sherlock, and John wasn't going to let Sherlock almost die twice in one day. So Sherlock stuck to observing the demons from the rooftops with Sam and Dean and Cas as John ran for his life. He didn't even know if this trap would work! How could a drawing stop a demon. Well it was too late to change his mind.

John threw the door open to an old, empty building and ran inside. The demons came to a sudden halt, reaching the edge of the devil's trap painted on the ceiling. John took a second to catch his breathe. He couldn't believe they worked.

Suddenly he felt the floor shake, the building tremble, and saw the devious smile painted on the demon's faces. He heard a large crack and looked up to see a large rift through the middle of the devil's trap. He knew he was a goner when he realized that the shaking caused huge chunks of rubble, from one of the upper floors, to fall in front of the door. Something always went wrong. The demons now were slowly approaching him, laughing, saying something about how stupid he was, but John wasn't listening. He was too busy waiting for the right moment as he twisted the cap off of the flask in his pocket. Once the demons got closer John swung his arm, splashing them across the face with holy water. There was a sizzling sound when the water made contact with the demon's skin. They both screamed and put their hands up to their eyes, John took this opportunity to run towards one of the windows. He could hear Sherlock and the Winchesters calling his name.

John had nearly made it to the window when he felt a hand grab onto the back of hours jacket. He hit the floor hard, his eyes opened to see the demons looming over his. One of the demons went flying, crashing into a wall. Light flooded from the other one's eyes and mouth, it dropped to the floor next to John. John looked up at Castiel.

"Are you alright?" The angel asked, holding his hand out.

John took his hand and pulled himself up, "Yeah, thanks... Thank you for helping me."

Sherlock picked up and old brick off the ground as he ran up to the building. He then used it to smash a window and knock the broken glass out, before climbing through with the Winchesters close behind. The three of them ran over to John and Cas.

"I made sure not to kill him," Cas said, gesturing to the knocked out demon, slumped against the wall.

Sam and Dean went over to the demon, while Sherlock inspected John.

"Are you hurt?" Sherlock couldn't see any signs of injury.

John shook his head, "No, I'm fine."

Soon Sam and Dean had the circle redrawn and the demon tied up inside.

"Alright, now what?" John asked, standing with the others around the edges of the devil's trap.

"We need to extract information,"Sherlock stated, hands in their thinking position.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, knowing that torture was an option, but neither of them wanted to say it.

Knowing what the brothers were thinking, Cas said, "We could try intimidation."

The others looked at made eye contact, figuring this could be a valid choice. They heard the demon groan and looked over as his eyes opened.

"Rise and shine, you black eyed son of a bitch," Dean yelled as he clapped his hands together.

The demon glared, "Winchester."

"So you know who I am," Dean gave a cheeky smile, "What else do you know?"

This earned a growl from the demon.

"Listen, buddy," Dean took the demon knife out of his pocket, "We could do this the easy way or we could do this the hard way. I, myself, like the easy way. Where you just blab your guts, so I don't have to cut them out."

The demon laughed, "You really think you can scare me?"

"You should be," Sam stepped forward.

"Oh?" The demon tilted his head, "And why is that?"

Sam smiled, "Because we've got an angel."

The lights flickered as Cas stepped up. John and Sherlock gaped at the shadow of Cas' wings on the wall. His eyes started to glow, "Talk."

The demon chuckled nervously, "You're not going to do anything to me, you need me. If you didn't I'd already be dead." He sounded significantly less confident than before.

"Maybe not," Sherlock spoke up, "but what if we call Crowley? The master of torture should be able to get some answers."

The color drained from the demon's face, "Wait, wait!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"Hold on," The demon begged, "Just let me explain."

"Go on," Sherlock examined the demon.

"Listen it's not my fault that I'm here, I'm just following orders," The demon spouted out in a panic.

"Yes, we know that. Whose orders?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Come on now! I can't tell you that, he'll kill me."

Sam sighed dramatically as he took hots phone out and started punching in random numbers.

"Frederick! His name's Frederick!" The demon yelled.

"Alright," Dean said, "where would we find Freddie?"

"I don't know," The demon answered.

"Do not lie to me," Sherlock spat back.

"He doesn't have a meeting place, doesn't want hunters to find him," The demon said, "He sends the word out last minute."

"How does he get everyone together?"John asked, getting his bearing back.

"He sends Malvo. He's his right hand man, ya know?" As if sensing the next question the demon added, "And we only see him when he finds us. That's all I know, I swear!"

Dean and Cas nodded to each other before Cas walked into the the devil's trap a placed his hand on the demon's head. A few seconds later it was dead on the floor. Sherlock and John felt a little surprised by the suddenness and coldness of it, but understood why it had to be done. John felt a little more weary of the hunters. What would they do if he or Sherlock got possessed? Sherlock made a mental note to watch their behavior me closely.

Sam noticed them shift and felt an odd need to defend Cas and Dean, "We can't have him telling other demons or the Frederick guy what we know."

"Great, now what do we do about Malvo, or whatever?" Dean grumbled.

"I can survey the area for large gatherings of demons," Cas suggest.

"Check restaurants or any place recently closed down that used to serve food," Sherlock said. Cad tilted his head and squinted his eyes, so Sherlock continued, "The demons from this morning vaguely smelled of frying grease, which means they had been somewhere that serves foods. Could they have just grabbed a bite to eat before coming to kill us? Possibly, but why would demons bother eating? Abs on top of that these two also smell like food, along with some stains from grease on their clothes. The scent is too strong for it to have been leftover from this morning, besides it's highly likely that Frederick would call a meeting after the first group failed to kill us."

"Okay," Dean nodded, "Cas, you and John, head out and look for demons. The rest of us will try to find a way to catch this Maldick guy and make him talk. We'll all meet back at the flat in 3 hours."

John, and Cas looked a little confused but this, so Sam clarified, "What Dean's probably thinking is that we don't want to send anyone off alone. There's a good chance that they might attack again."

"I don't need assistance," Cas's tone sounded slightly offended.

Dean stepped closer, putting his hand on Cas' shoulder, "Cas, buddy, if they know you're with us, they're probably suiting up to fight angels. I can't have you getting surrounded by a bunch of demons with angel blades. Anyway, a little back up won't hurt ya."

Cas let out an annoyed sigh and nodded, "Alright." Suddenly, he was gone.

John stood there awkwardly, "Ummm..."

Then Cas was standing next to John, causing the doctor to jump, "I'm sorry..." Cas mumbled, looking like a kicked puppy. He then on John's shoulder and they were both gone.

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**We're camping and it's absolutely miserable out here, but it's given me a little extra time to write. Feedback would be wonderful or if there's anything you want to see me try to squeeze in. Sometimes finding a decent stopping place gives me a really awkward starting place next time. Anyway I hope you enjoyed. **


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